At least this way
by Tk Tony
Summary: AU. Gokudera never went to the Japan, but Tsuna's still managed to rise to the occasion and become the incumbent Tenth boss of the Vongola. At the age of 21, Tsuna and the Guardians move operations to Italy where Yamamoto finally meets Gokudera. 5980


**Title**: At least this way…**  
Rating:** PG-13**  
Genre:** Drama**  
Pairing:** 5980**  
Summary:** AU. Gokudera never went to the Japan, but Tsuna's still managed to rise to the occasion and become the incumbent Tenth boss of the Vongola. At the age of 21, Tsuna and the Guardians move operations to Italy where Yamamoto finally meets Gokudera.**  
Warnings:** Gokkun is... worse than he is in canon. He knows his dad killed his mother and he had no Tsuna to make him less crazy. Just keep that in mind.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, not real, no monies.

**At least this way…**

The first time Yamamoto (the Tenth Vongola's Rain Guardian and Right Hand) met Gokudera Hayato was at Tsuna's twenty-first birthday party. The lavish Vongola estate hosted the event, which heralded Tsuna's imminent position as boss of the entire family, rather than just the Japanese branch. In hindsight, Yamamoto liked to think that some greater force (the meeting of souls, maybe) drew him to Gokudera that day, but if he was being honest with himself, he knew that the thing that made Gokudera so blindingly attractive was the fact that he spoke Japanese.

He'd been quite content to follow Tsuna around and let Reborn translate everything, but when they went to have a private meeting with the Ninth, something not even the Guardians could intrude upon, Yamamoto had found himself drifting aimlessly between the large rooms filled with celebrants. Most of the guests knew who he was ("You see him? He has one of the Vongola Rings, he must be that Rain Guardian..."), but he could count the people he knew on his fingers. Not ten minutes after leaving Tsuna's side, Yamamoto found himself caught between the buffet tables and a middle-aged Italian woman (probably drunk) who kept touching his face and saying things far outside the reach of his rudimentary Italian.

That was when Gokudera made his grand entrance; (rudely) ushering the woman away and dragging Yamamoto out onto a deserted terrace that overlooked the gardens. "Come on, Rainboy, I need a smoke."

And then the snowball started rolling down the long, snowy slope.

* * *

"Yamamoto, your mission is to memorize the layout of the entire area around and leading to the Vongola estate. I'll find someone to go with you to translate." As per usual, Reborn showed no signs of having been awake (and drinking) all night at the party and Yamamoto was slightly jealous (having a smile on his face, didn't mean Yamamoto didn't have a hangover).

"What about Gokudera? He seems like a pretty interesting guy." Yamamoto grinned and surreptitiously rubbed his pounding head.

Reborn didn't look _surprised_ (Yamamoto wasn't sure there was anything that _could_ surprise the hitman), but he looked interested. "You get along with Gokudera?"

Immediately, Yamamoto knew what he was talking about (Gokudera had threatened to throw him over the balcony several times during their conversation). "Haha, he talks tough, but he's a good guy."

"I'll contact him, then."

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Yamamoto grinned and spread his arms wide. Glancing at Gokudera from the corner of his eye, ready to share his joy in the open countryside, he saw his new friend rolls his eyes. "You're really lucky you know?"

"Oh really? And why's that?" Gokudera deadpanned.

"You grew up here, didn't you? There weren't even any parks like this around my house, and since Dad had the shop, we never really had a chance to take a train out to the country." Ignoring his fine suit, Yamamoto stepped off the road and into the tall grass. The only open land he'd ever seen in Japan was either filled with animals or crops. This was just... Brilliant sunlight shining down onto lush, Italian plants (none that he could name, not that he could name any plants other than seaweed) and a slight breeze that sent his ring blazing, even without consciously thinking about it. He turned back to the road where Gokudera waited with a long suffering look.

"I grew up in the city, moron."

"Haha! Either way, this is great!" He swept his hands through the sweet-smelling grass around him. "The grass is too high for sports, but maybe there's a place somewhere else."

"We're not here to sight see."

"Haha! But I have to learn the terrain! If I just wanted to know where everything is, I'd get a map!" Yamamoto laughed when Gokudera just shook his head.

* * *

Two days into Yamamoto's mission (and five days since he arrived in Italy) he was hankering for some real food. "Are you sure there aren't any sushi restaurants around here? I mean, in a city this size there should be two or three at least."

Gokudera made a face Yamamoto was very familiar with (a wrinkle between Gokudera's silver eyebrows and his eyes squinted, as if whatever Yamamoto just said caused him physical pain.). "Yamamoto, this is a _town_, not a tourist trap."

"Okay, what about a Lotteria? _Everyone_ eats hamburgers."

"What the hell is a Lotteria? I've never even _heard_ of that place."

How could he not know about Lotteria? That was almost as big of a crime as there not being any sushi restaurants! "It's a hamburger place-"

"Well, I figured that part out, idiot."

Continuing as if he hadn't spoken, Yamamoto said, "-Just like McDonalds, only it has better food. Like squid rings and-"

"I'm going to pretend you're not talking and you're going to pretend to be cultured and we'll both get some dinner."

Despite being interrupted, Yamamoto laughed and let Gokudera drag him through a small doorway on the right side of the street.

Yamamoto ducked before walking under the door frame, but then realized he had plenty of space and felt silly (a common feeling, especially when Gokudera was around). A middle-aged woman with a clean white apron (she was practically identical to the woman from the party, only with different clothes) ushered them to the only table with a view out of the frosted glass window and onto the street. He watched the blurry people walk by while Gokudera spoken quick-paced Italian with the woman (if Yamamoto's prior experience in Italy (and with Gokudera's choice in food) was correct, the woman's family owned the restaurant and had since the feudal era).

When the woman walked back to the kitchen, Yamamoto asked, "So what are we having?" Gokudera opened his mouth to answer, but Yamamoto held up one hand to pause him. "Don't tell me what it's called, tell me what it is."

Gokudera's face completely transformed into a smile and he even coughed out a little chuckle. The laugh didn't last (from what Yamamoto'd picked up over the last few days, Gokudera didn't smile or laugh very often), so Yamamoto added his own to keep it going. Gokudera grinned (it was more like a smirk, but he tried) at Yamamoto and shook his head. "At least you know you're an idiot."

"It's good, that's what it is."

Yamamoto laughed again, but then the woman was back, this time with a bottle of wine. She spoke to Gokudera in that rapid Italian and started what Yamamoto called "The Wine Ritual" in his mind. Because, well, it was a ritual. And it happened at seemingly every meal. After two hours, or so, The Wine Ritual ended and Yamamoto could speak again (after taking a sip of wine that, honestly, tasted like every other glass of wine he'd had).

"I was wondering, Reborn said that your dad was the boss of one of the Vongola's subsidiary families, so... Why do you have a Japanese name?"

Gokudera mentally prepped himself (this was another series of facial expressions Yamamoto was familiar with) and took a drink (big sip) of wine. "My mother was half-Japanese. After she... _died_... I wanted to keep her memory alive."

The woman came back with perfect timing to break the awkward silence. Yamamoto knew what it was like to lose a mother, but something about Gokudera (and the way he said "died") told Yamamoto that their situations weren't similar at all. So Yamamoto moved his focus to the steaming plate in front of him. Clumsily forking the pasta and trying to eat it before it fell off the silver utensil.

"I'm not keeping you from any missions of your own, am I? Haha, I didn't even think about that." Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"It's nothing you have to worry about. I'm actually in the middle of a mission right now. I'm just waiting for the word to start the second part and leave, so that means you'll have to find someone else to tolerate your stupid ass."

"Haha, I'm not that bad! You haven't begged off yet."

"How do you know I'm not just staying here because I'm trying to get in good with the Guardians?" Gokudera reached over the table and flicked Yamamoto's forehead. "You're too naive. You and the rest of the Vongola Guardians have rank now. You can bet that everyone that talks to you is just trying to get in good with the new boss."

"You don't have to worry about me, Gokudera." He tapped his temple with two fingers. "This blank stare is a powerful defense mechanism."

Startled by the response, Gokudera laughed again.

* * *

The next afternoon, before dusk, but after the sun sank beneath the tall hills protecting the Vongola estate Gokudera guided Yamamoto through the maze of back streets that spanned nearly half of the town. As soon as he had a good feel for the general layout, Yamamoto proposed a most interesting (to him) idea. "We should play tag!"

"Have you completely digressed back to a five year-old?" (Yamamoto knew the signs, he could see the smile Gokudera held back.)

"The reason the streets are like this is to lose a pursuer or confuse a trail. Playing tag is just practice with the violence scaled down. And it's fun!"

"We're wearing suits, you moron."

Without responding, Yamamoto pulled off his jacket and started working on his tie and the tiny white buttons on his shirt.

"You gotta be kidding me."

"We've got undershirts. We can just leave these in the car!" Yamamoto looked up from his shirt to see Gokudera staring at him.

"You're insane," Gokudera said, but Yamamoto saw him yank his own suit jacket off.

An hour later, sweaty from dodging buildings, pedestrians, dogs, a brightly painted fruit cart and several abandoned boxes, Yamamoto still found the energy to chase and smile. Real dusk was approaching fast (or already here, the streets were dark enough), so the game would be over once Gokudera managed to catch him again (if he did. Gokudera knew the area better, but Yamamoto had better endurance after years of baseball).

He ducked under a low overhang and made a quick right onto a slightly wider street. He heard pounding footsteps (these shoes were _awful_ for running) behind him and made another split-second right turn onto a tiny alley.

Where Gokudera was waiting. Panting, Gokudera pinned him against the wall and they stood, staring at each other and out of breath. "I got you, Yamamoto. Now are we done with this fucking game?"

Yamamoto laughed and pushed some of Gokudera's damp silver hair out of his eyes. "Sure, sure. It was fun, though. Tomorrow we should-"

But Gokudera cut him off with a rough kiss. Yamamoto's back prickled with the feeling the stucco behind him and the warm mouth on his. His one girlfriend (Eri-chan, second year of high school) always complained and refused to kiss him after practice because he was all gross when he was sweaty, but when he threaded his hands in Gokudera's damp hair and breathed in the musky scent, he couldn't imagine what she had a problem with. The cool breeze chilled him in stark contrast to the nearly burning sensation of Gokudera's back under his wandering hands.

"From now on, I pick what we do. Got that, Rainboy?"

Yamamoto just chuckled breathlessly and pulled him back in for another kiss.

* * *

Five days into his mission (almost six, judging from the time, red numbers blinking 00:17) and Yamamoto finally felt comfortable with 80 of the assigned terrain. He knew he could bring it up to a gleaming 100, but Tsuna had mentioned something about needing him soon. So, he snuggled into too-soft sheets on his too-soft Vongola mattress and tried to fall asleep.

Unfortunately, his brain (and a certain other part) had other ideas and continued to throw specific images and details back into the forefront of his mind. The smell of Gokudera's hair, the way his pianist hands curled in Yamamoto's hair when he held him down for long, slow kisses, half pressed into the topiaries in the middle of the Vongola's hedge maze. _'Tsuna won't _really_ need me for another day or two._'

And then his door opened a crack. The bedroom was huge. He couldn't even see the door. It didn't creek because there was no way a Guardian's door went un-oiled, but Yamamoto just knew. And something other than his brain (he liked to think it was his heart) knew who had opened the door. After tip-toeing across rugs that probably cost more than Takezushi, he finally reached the door and opened it fully to the dimly lit hallway and one awkward-looking Gokudera.

"What are you doing here? It's zero-dark-thirty."

Gokudera gave the weak chuckle Yamamoto had become so good at pulling out, but then his face faded into it's more typical scowl (this one more sad than angry). "I just got the call. I'm finishing my mission tomorrow -- later today." Gokudera looked away as he said the words, but Yamamoto reached out with one hand to bring his gaze back. "We won't-" He cut his own voice off.

"Gokudera. No, _Hayato_. Why don't you stay?"

"I _can't_."

"Just... For tonight."

* * *

"Haya-kun. I see you managed to get both the Storm and the Rain Vongola rings. You'll be happy to hear that your father's death will be on the evening news."

"Thank you, Byakuran-sama." '_I'm so sorry, Takeshi. I'm sorry.'_

"No need to be so formal. You did a good job and managed to get your revenge for your mother. But... You were so close to the Rainboy, how is it you didn't manage to bring him back for interrogation?"

"He resisted." _'I'm sorry. Please. Just believe me... Byakuran would have done so much worse if you weren't..! At least this way, you'll never know what a fucking, spineless traitor I am._'


End file.
